


u/Zymyrgist Weekly Writing Prompts

by OhLookAWriter



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25512592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhLookAWriter/pseuds/OhLookAWriter
Summary: My submissions to the Reddit thread by u/Zymyrgist
Kudos: 11





	1. Prompt: For their valor, Kiran and the Order are awarded the Kingdom of Nifl's highest honors!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's thread:  
> https://www.reddit.com/r/FireEmblemHeroes/comments/huyk1o/weekly_writing_prompt_for_their_valor_kiran_and/

“Kiran? Shouldn’t you be joining the festivities?”

Kiran looked up slightly so the cloak’s shadows receded slightly to show the summoner’s mouth. He dipped the glass toward Fjorm in greeting. “I’m fine in my corner, thanks.” They managed a weak grin. “Don’t worry about me. Go and enjoy yourself tonight.”

Fjorm frowned slightly. “This party is about you,” she said with a little more force. She jabbed lightly at the medal on the Summoner’s coat, a representation of Nifl’s highest honor. “You enjoy parties, do you not? You practically cause a quarter of the celebrations in the Order.”

“And Anna creates most of the other 75%,” Kiran sighed. The reason he was avoiding the party was exactly that it was being held in his honor. They dipped their head, scanning the room for an escape. Under the shadow of their robe, their eyes widened over the casino table. “It’s an honor, truly,” they said, an excuse forming in their head. “Don’t get me wrong on that part. But I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Kiran leaned in closer to Fjorm’s ear. 

“The moment that I step out into that floor, Commander Anna is gonna market me to the moon and back.”

Fjorm smile held an edge. “You don’t need to worry about that then. Commander Anna is in a diplomatic meeting with Nifl representatives.” 

Kiran deflated slightly. “I have paperwork?”

Fjorm tugged on Kiran’s sleeve. “Come with me.”

Just their luck.

Sighing, Kiran placed their empty glass on the counter. “I don’t suppose you are leading me to a quiet office?” they asked rhetorically. Kiran politely nodded to heroes and diplomats alike as the duo weaved through the crowd. 

“Not quite,” Fjorm said. 

Kiran’s eyes widened when he saw the destination. Reluctantly, he followed Fjorm’s insistent tugging onto the dance floor.

“Won’t you give me this dance?” Fjorm asked coyly.

“I’d expect this move from Gunnthrá more so than you,” Kiran said tersely. They gingerly placed a hand on Fjorm’s shoulder, letting her take the lead. “I’m glad that the people accepted her, even if this Gunnthrá isn’t their own.”

“I can be charming when I want to,” she said with a light blush. Kiran noted that she didn’t keep her voice entirely stutter-free. “You brought her back to us,” Fjorm said, eyes softening. “You know, I saw you at the summoning altar spending your store of orbs to draw her for us.” Fjorm smiled at the way Kiran’s mouth widened in shock. “It seems that my debt to you grows larger still.”

Kiran ducked his head. “But-”

“There is no point in dwelling on what cannot be changed,” Fjorm said. “Do not let your guilt prevent you from enjoying yourself.”

Kiran fell silent, swaying gently with Fjorm to the music. “Focus on the beat,” they winced, stiffening when Fjorm got a little too close for comfort.

“You are good at dancing, although you could work on being a little less stiff,” Fjorm chided. “Are lessons common in your world?”

Kiran shook their head. “Not quite.”

Fjorm hummed. “Well, I’m glad you decided to take them then.”

After what seemed like an eternity to Kiran, the song ended and Fjorm led Kiran off of the dance floor.

“Did you have fun?” Fjorm asked.

“Yeah, thanks,” Kiran mumbled. He paused, momentarily debating something, then spoke up again. “It's not the entire reason I didn’t want to join in.”

“Sorry?”

“Your question earlier.” Kiran unhooked Breidablik from its holster. The barrel glowed an eerie pulsating blue in reaction to the Rite of Frost still tearing at the girl beside them. “You remember how I told you I am from a different world?”

“The world of buildings that scrape the sky and of metal horses?” Fjorm smiled. “How could I forget such a bizarre place?”

Kiran nodded. “In my world, they’d probably classify my situation as Isekai.”

“You mean that being summoned to other worlds is common in your homeworld?”

Kiran shook their head. “It's a type of story. One that usually doesn’t end well for the protagonist” Kiran traced a finger over the barrel of the relic, the ruins momentarily lighting where their finger touched. “In most Isekais, the main character usually gains a special ability and changes because of it. Glory, power, fame, it all corrupts a person.” Kiran chuckled bitterly, gesturing to Breidablik. “Lo and behold, I, a corruptible person, received a special power. And the question is how much have I changed because of it? And how much have I changed in anticipation of it? Dancing, etiquette, all manner of things I have practiced in hopes that this would happen to me.”

Kiran waved off Fjorm’s concerned look. “Don’t worry about me. First world problems, no? Ah, that term doesn’t exist here, sorry.” Kiran laughed slightly. “The point is, parties like this in my honor tend to get to my head, and I don’t need another boost to my ego.” Kiran’s eyes softened. “Still, thank you for all that you have done for the order. Both today and every day.”

Fjorm remained silent, seemingly struggling to find the proper words. 

“You don’t need to say anything. Just having you by my side is enough for me.”

“Know that you can rely on me if you need anything,” she sighed, settling on those words.

Kiran smiled. “Of course.” Though in all honesty, they hoped that day would never come. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These have a tendency to be rushed, so sorry about that! I'm hoping to get these stories out semi-on time in relation to when the thread begins.


	2. Bets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Kiran stumbles upon a report Anna didn't file, and the contents are shocking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is short. I really struggle with making longer stories it seems.

Cleaning, no matter the universe, was incredibly dull.

“I’m getting too old for this,” Kiran muttered darkly, feeling his spine crack back into place. “Augh, by back...” They were supposed to be in their prime!

Kiran took a small break, stretching backward. Their back gave a concerning  _ pop _ , which Kiran pointedly ignored. They took a moment to look around at the very large,  _ very expensive  _ looking library. Rows and rows of books, scrolls, and other various records were packed into shelves that lined the marble walls. Windows illuminated an open area with tables, scholars huddled around their desks scouring answers for the latest threat to the Askarian kingdom.

Speaking of threats, even if the base of the Order of Heroes was rarely under direct attack from outside forces (thankfully), that didn’t mean the items within the Order’s walls were safe. Thieves would be a problem if the Order was any less fortified. However, the real terror was the heroes that guarded Askr and made their homes within these halls.

Kiran internally shuddered. Looking at the West wall, you could barely tell that Mia got a little  _ too _ excited with the Distant Counter skill, opening the wall for an unfortunately placed Excalibur.

Kiran still doesn’t know why they gave such an important skill away in the first place, but that discussion was for another time.

Midway through shelving yet another combat manual, they paused. “Odd,” they said, picking up a rolled-up report. “This should be on the other side of the library if it is an archive.” Walking over to the archive section of the massive, Kiran’s nose scrunched up as the musty smell of paper grew stronger. “Guess I need to find a date,” Kiran noted. They unraveled the parchment and narrowed their eyes.

“Commander Anna seems to have collected some bets on my gender,” Kiran sighed. The parchment was lined with the names of many heroes and kept surprisingly detailed arguments for both why Kiran was male or female. And a recurring theme seemed to be using some of the more flirtatious members of the order as proof…

Finished with reading the document, Kiran smirked and added their own name to the list, with their own very special identification. Hailing a servant, they asked the message to be delivered to Anna’s office. Turning back to their previous job, they blanched at the pile that still awaited them.

“I barely made a dent,” they lamented. Wincing, they got back to work.

\-------------

“Kiran found the betting roster I suppose,” Commander Anna sighed, noting the new name on the report. Reading her description, she frowned.

“What in Askr’s name is an attack helicopter?!”

  
  



	3. Prompt: With the Castle undergoing a huge remodel, Kiran and a Hero end up as roommates!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiran likes to emulate old, outdated memes.

Kiran burst into Anna’s office, stopping the rebounding door with an outstretched sleeve. Anna showed no reaction to the sudden loud sound. She picked up the lone report that got blown off her desk. “Is there something I can help you with?” Anna said blandly.

Kiran swung wide around an office chair. “We need to talk about the new room arrangements.”

“I can’t do anything for you,” Anna said flatly. It was almost like she expected the summoner to suddenly burst into the room demanding negotiations. “The castle is going under renovations, and we have no other place to put you.”

“Hear me out, hear me out,” Kiran said quickly. They took a deep breath. 

“I am the summoner,” Kiran enunciated. 

“You are the summoner,” Commander Anna agreed with an uninterested tone. She nodded along listlessly as her eyes scanned the latest file.

Kiran paced around the clutter on the floor of the commander’s office. “I want to keep my identity and look hidden.”

“Yep,” Commander Anna sighed, stamping the document with the Askrian seal.

“Rooming with another hero would risk my identity and gender being revealed. And if that is the case, I should not take a roommate.”

“That makes sense,” Commander Anna said, already moving to the next report.

“So stop rooming me with people on your betting list!”

Were they being petty? Absolutely. Let the Order do what they please, but they will firmly defend their stance.

“To be fair, you were nearly the last person in the Order to join the betting list. Almost everyone has a stake in this.” Commander Anna pulled out the paper in question. Peering down on it, she said “How about Mercedes?”

Kiran threw their hands up. “I’ve read the list you know!” Kiran paused, eyes lighting up. “What if I am a guy?”

Anna looked up. “Both of us know you wouldn’t do anything, regardless of your gender,” she said mildly. Her eyes narrowed. “However, if you aren’t a girl, I’ll be losing 50 copper.”

“Of course you had to bet so much,” Kiran shook their head. What did they expect?

“Come on Kiran.” Anna pleaded. “Unless you want to room with some of the more… unsavory bunch, I suggest you choose someone fast.”

Kiran slumped. “Do I have no choice?” 

Anna nodded solemnly, a glint in her eye.

Scanning the list, Kiran settled on a familiar name. “Saber then,” they said in a defeated tone.

They lost their resolve awfully quick…

Commander Anna's smile grew a little too wide. “It’s settled then!”

=====

Kiran sighed, closing the door quietly. Peeling off their day cloak, they switched to pajamas and a loose-fitting nightgown that concealed the shape of their body. 

Rooming with Saber actually wasn’t too bad.

Kiran never liked to spend their leisure time in their room, so it wasn’t as if they were in there much outside of bringing strategies home to pour-over. Saber thankfully didn’t bother Kiran and has respected their privacy, much to Kiran’s relief. Furthermore, Saber liked to stay out drinking, not coming home till late. All Kiran had to do was wave off the occasional invite from Saber to go drinking, and their life was pretty much the same as when they lived alone.

Kiran did feel slightly guilty for rejecting Saber so many times, but their work wouldn’t do itself! 

That and alcohol did tend to loosen lips…

They shook their head. They better stop following that train of thought, lest they make too big of a deal out of something so trivial. 

Fjorm’s conversation came back to them as they blew out the candle on their bed stand.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always end up rushing the end just to get the chapter out semi-on time, rip.


	4. Prompt: [Weekly Writing Prompt] Trapped on an unfamiliar world, Kiran finds themselves at the mercy of...Captain Veronica?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's go 2 weeks late.  
> I decided to go with Veronica and co. just being completely done with Kiran. Hope I did her justice!

Kiran hated the sea.

Or at least that is where they think they are, given the incessant rocking of the floor below. Given that they didn’t come from a particularly wealthy family, it wasn’t like they traveled very often. If they did travel, it was by car or occasionally airplane.

“Although the real question is whether this or economy class is worse,” Kiran groaned, checking that indeed, they were still bound. Kiran’s eyes narrowed as the floor tilted again. “No sound…” The ship didn’t seem overly creaky, and Kiran couldn’t hear any obvious sign of cargo shifting about. So the ship was probably well made, and manned by a skilled crew who knew not to leave cargo untied.

It seemed that motion sickness was another trait that sadly carried over during their hop between worlds.

Not that they were all much different. Breidablik was the one who gave them most of their powers, such as a boosted immune system and pain resistance. Given that Kiran’s stomach was still churning, the motion sickness resistance must have been built into Breidablik too.

“Which means Breidablik is not nearby,” Kiran winced. Busting out with magic was not an option. And even if they did escape, they didn’t want to risk fighting who knows how many captors on the outside of the pitch-black cell.

Kiran wrinkled their nose. A pitch-black, wet, slimy, musty cell.

The floor lurched, and Kiran rolled back to the other side of the cell. Simultaneously, something large slammed into one of the walls. A moment later, a door opened and Kiran was dragged to their feet.

“Get up,” a voice -  _ Xander _ \- said.

“ _ So this must be an elaborate kidnapping scheme by Veronica,”  _ Kiran lamented. Out loud, they said, “Yeah sure, just ah, give me a hand?” They toppled over at the next wave, stumbling slightly into Xander.

An audible sigh was heard, and Kiran felt Xander unceremoniously lift them by their armpits.

Kiran kept their sigh less audible. Being difficult would achieve nothing.

_ The smart main characters always scheme their way out of situations after all. _

Xander remained largely silent, only cutting in with the occasional grunt as the ship threw the pair into a wall. Kiran, for their part, began trying to memorize the ship’s layout, although they lost track after what seemed like the 20th turn.

They swore Xander was leading them around in circles on purpose.

Kiran squinted opening the latest door. Unlike the dimly lit corridors, lit only by the occasional candle, this room was brightly lit. Expensive upholstery with intricately woven patterns littered the room. A large mahogany desk sat in the center of the room.

Despite improved relations, Kiran blanched as their eyes adjusted and they saw who sat behind that desk. Sure enough, Veronica, dressed up in pirate (pirate?) gear, was glaring down the summoner.

“Hello?” they croaked out, wincing at the roughness of their voice.

“Get them a glass of wine,” Veronica waved. Xander sat Kiran down in a chair and turned to a casket in the corner of the room. Frothy red liquid poured out into a cup, which Xander dipped into Kiran’s mouth.

“Thanks,” Kiran said. They swished the liquid around in their mouth; even if it wasn’t the best wine they tasted, a thirsty summoner would take it all the same. Kiran dipped the empty glass towards their captors, clearing their throat for a second attempt at a greeting. “Hello, Veronica. Any reason why you took me here? I assume my kidnapping must have been a difficult affair.”

“Yes yes, your pesky heroes were trouble to get around,” Veronica waved. Her eyes narrowed. “And it is the captain to you, summoner. This is my ship, and I’ll have you address me accordingly.”

“Right. Apologies, Captain Veronica,” Kiran said stiffly. Then exhaled slowly. “Now then, will you grace me with the reason for my summoning?”

_ Heh, summoner, summoning, _ a small part of their mind supplied. A ghost of a smile twitched across Kiran’s face.

The majority was glad that they haven’t been smitten yet.

Veronica gave an unimpressed look. “You would think being kidnapped would crush such a bad sense of humor. And as for why you are here...” She leaned back in her chair. “Summon me a hero.”

“Uh, pardon?” Kiran flinched. They quickly returned to their normal position, re-donning a mask of careful indifference. “Er,” they tried to salvage, “Sure. But I need orbs and I can’t summon without being at an altar.”

“Those will be provided,” Xander cut in. “We are not only sailing for pleasure after all.” On cue, the boat rocked heavily to the right. “We should be arriving in the next few days.” Xander walked up to Kiran and removed their bonds. “Until then, you are free to roam the boat and make the necessary preparations.”

“Got it, thanks,” Kiran said, pressing a sweaty hand to their chafed wrist. They groaned slightly as they stretched. Kiran could already feel the multiple cramps that came with their imprisonment. “So uh, what type of hero are we looking for?” Kiran asked. They weren’t particularly concerned about Veronica using the heroes against them; Breidablik would ensure that she couldn’t use them for nefarious means.

“A pirate,” Veronica responded, getting up from her chair. The boat tilted again, sending Kiran flying into a wall, but Veronica remained standing with not even a wobble. “I need a pirate.”

“You know I can’t specify the person I summon, right?” Kiran said. Otherwise, they would be stacking special spiral and distant counters on everyone. “And I don’t even know if there is a pirate to summon. I haven’t seen one in the catalogs Feh has given me at least.”

“Then we’ll find a way,” Veronica said. She moved over to a bookshelf, rifling through the pages. “Someone of my aptitude should have no problem finding a solution.”

“I’ll let you work on that then,” Kiran said doubtfully, swinging their arms side to side. I’ll just go… somewhere.” Kiran walked outside, paused, then walked back inside Veronica’s office. “Actually, could you show me around?”

Xander gave a tired look at Veronica, before giving in. “Fine. Follow me then.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still haven't quite figured out Kiran's characterization yet, but we will hopefully get there.


	5. Endless Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiran walks alone in a quiet city, reflecting on their current situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of these days I'll figure out how to make my submissions on time.

**[Weekly Writing Prompt] Kiran and the Order are asked to investigate rumors in the city, rumors of waking nightmares that prowl the streets!**

Holstering Breidablik, Kiran sighed and turned his gaze to the city clocktower.  _ 4:15, _ the clock read. 

Not much that does for them. 

Kiran griped their sword a little tighter, eyes scanning the dark alleyways. Under normal circumstances, Kiran would feel a little more safe resting in the middle of the Order of Heroes’ defensive perimeter. However, their current circumstances were anything but normal.

Kiran whirled around, sword held out shakily in front of them. The alleyway he turned towards made no other sound. 

According to this world’s time, they have already been trapped here for two months. At least, Kiran assumed they were trapped. He awoke one morning to Breidablik pulsating in a warning, the world flickering between Kiran’s room and something else. 

That something else worried them.

Since then, Breidablik has been oddly silent; the digital clock feature no longer worked among many other more vital things such as combat capabilities. The Order began to act as if Kiran was a non-combatant the entire time (they were a non-combatant, but Breidablik could pull its weight in a pinch). Summoning felt different, and not because of the terrible pulls they have been getting. 

_ Too many Arthurs, _ Kiran grimaced. The order’s library of combat manuals grew ever higher. They should probably turn heroes into feathers, but on the off chance that they do need an HP+5…

Kiran still refused to admit that they may have a  _ tiny _ hoarding problem .

He worked his way west, where he assumed a strike force would still be. So far, life had proceeded much as normal, with the occasional dispatch of the Order for Askrian affairs and maintaining the Aether Keep. Mentioning the possibility of being trapped inside a living nightmare was uncharacteristically brushed off by even the wariest heroes, but other than that not much has changed.

Kiran wouldn’t take their chances though.

The order had been called out to investigate rumors in the city. The rumors detailed pictures of waking nightmares that prowl the streets, indiscriminately taking the lives of soldiers, adults, and children. While Kiran hoped that they were more capable than children in defending themselves, there was no way that they were above soldiers without Breidablik’s boons.

“Shift walking through the night, shift walking through the night…” Kiran quietly mumbled to themselves.

Kiran cringed as Breidablik’s ping echoed a little too loudly throughout the city. He unholstered the relic, triggering it to activate one of the remaining functions working. After a brief pause, unorganized shouting and ringing metal blared out of Breidablik’s barrel.

“Kiran? Oh, thank Naga we were able to make it through.” Exalted Chrom’s voice crackled across the line. “We have spotted the rumored nightmares all across the western perimeter.” Chrom’s voice paused briefly and was replaced with an audible  _ squelch _ . “We are fine over here, but you need to move towards east towards Ike’s group.”

A sense of foreboding dread came upon Kiran. Chrom, oblivious to Kiran’s situation, continued, “These monsters are coming from everywhere and we do not know how many got past us.” The sound of hooves beating on stone grew louder in the real world. “Robin is having us loop around...” Chrom trailed off as a distinct  _ scrape _ was fed loudly into Breidablik. 

“Kiran? Please tell me that isn’t...”

“I think I found one of them,” Kiran confirmed, slowly turning around. A twitching, pulsating black goo met his eyes, glinting claws dripping ominously from the sides. The nightmare shuddered, spraying bits of itself onto the ground that slowly crawled back to the main mass. “Please tell me these nightmares are easy to kill.”

“Run!” Robin’s voice broke over the comms. “Do not engage Kiran. I repeat, do not enga-!”

The last word was cut off as one of the creature’s claws scraped against Breidablik. Kiran stumbled backward, swinging weakly at the creature’s arms and prying the relic free. “Target already engaged!” Kiran said in an increasingly high pitch.  _ Alright, you’ll figure something out, that’s what they always do in the-  _ Kiran let out a yelp as the nightmare lunged forward. They brought up their sword to meet the flying mass, sending a jolt of numbness up their already shaky sword-arm. 

“Hang tight! We’ll be there soon!”

Kiran didn’t bother with a reply.  _ You’re the tactician. You got this, just have to avoid all those tropes.  _

Kiran swiped at the nightmares claws, taking care to prevent overextension. 

_ Trope number 1: Don’t act like a hero.  _

The sword bounced harmlessly off of the pitch-black curves. The nightmare’s “mouth” smiled evilly, slimy black goo dangling from a newly revealed hole at the top of the mass. 

_ Trope number 2: Don’t get pounced on and pinned.  _

Kiran audibly gulped, keeping himself from darting as the nightmare slowly advanced. 

_ Tip number 3: Keep your eyes on the threat. _

They quickly backpedaled as the nightmare hissed and took another swipe at Kiran’s sword. 

_ Number 4: Don’t fall down. _

Occasionally, their eyes darted to the alleyways to judge if they lead back to the west strike force. All Kiran managed to see were rapidly turning streets that blocked their true destination.  _ If the United States did anything right, it would be creating a grid system for roads and buildings, _ Kiran thought bitterly. 

_ 5: Don’t back yourself into an alleyway. _

Kiran sidestepped the next swipe.

_ Keep your head cool. _

They parried.

They backpedaled.

They stumbled.

_ Watch your surroundings. _

_ Stay with your group. Oh wait, I already broke that one didn’t I. _

A scraping not from the terror in front of them made Kiran freeze. Slowly circling around the nightmare in front of them, they saw more drippy black masses peel off the walls like old paint. As more and more bodies joined Kiran’s pursuer, a manageable situation quickly grew to something increasingly hopeless. Kiran’s fingers twitched beside Breidablik, before resting with his other hand on the hilt of his sword.

The nightmares formed a loose circle around the summoner, waiting.

_ Do not get surrounded. _

“Kiran!”

The nightmares pounced.

Kiran’s sword swung wide.

Panicked cries, spells, and crits rang out in the background.

And then the war horns (war horns?) rang across the dreamscape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to convey panic at the end by shortening my sentences, but I don't know how successful I was.


	6. A New (Old) World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth, after broken dreams and failed runs, returns to Askr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Byleth is from my reincarnation fic on my AO3 account (Ashen Reincarnate). I use M!Byleth to describe the classic interpretation of Byleth. I decided to cut this chapter short so I could work on the next one. Thank you for reading!

_ -ust in time too. I’ll hand over control to him if that is alright with you.” _

_ “Sure.” The voice sounded tired but kind. “Take care of yourself!” _

Byleth felt his body lurch forward. Lights, scents, and textures hit his senses all at once as he grasped (not fumbled, reincarnates don’t fumble) for his sword. 

“Easy there!” Commander Anna called. “You’re in Askr now.”

Byleth blinked the stars out of his eyes. Sure enough, he was back in the Askrian countryside. Rolling hills spotted the horizon, not quite a healthy green and still sporting scars from the invasion of the dead. He relaxed his grip on his sword as his eyes swept over the Order of Heroes.

_ “Let me know if you have any questions,”  _ M!Byleth said. 

Byleth nodded slightly to let the other  _ (the real) _ Byleth know that he was heard. Rarely was there anything to discuss; each time Byleth was transported back to Askr he received all the memories and thought processes that M!Byleth had when he was in control of the Byleth avatar. 

Byleth flexed his muscles slightly, trying to summon a small spark. As expected, nothing occurred: Breidablik’s restrictions were cruel like that.

_ “Do you need to talk about your last run?” _ M!Byleth asked. He must have been sifting through Byleth’s own memories; memories of broken dreams and failed runs. 

_ There will be a time for that,  _ Byleth shook his head, still blinking the dancing lights from his eyes.  _ But now we must fight. _

M!Byleth inclined his head, before fading back into Byleth’s subconscious. 

“The scent of daydreams floats on the air,” A girl sniffed.  _ Peony, _ M!Byleth’s memories supplied. “Mirabilis must be close by now. Where could she be?”

Almost as if in answer, Byleth lurched forward, a metaphorical carpet being pulled from underneath his feet. Byleth’s vision swam as a wave of fatigue passed over the Order. Cries of alarm were spotted with the ringing of swords drawn and the sounds of spells being readied. He moved towards who he assumed was Owain (Odin? No, Odin wasn’t in the vanguard…), bringing his sword up into a defensive guard. 

“H-huh? Wh-what was…”

“Is everyone alright?”

Through what little vision remained, he saw Alflonse slowly pick himself and make his way towards Peony. Byleth took a step forward and stumbled. 

_ Too much light… _

_ “Sothis thinks it’s because you just came here. I’d imagine coming back from the dead couldn’t be a pleasant experience.”  _

_ Wonderful. _

Byleth’s face hit the cold soil.


	7. Nightmares Are Memories When You Live For 1000 Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Weekly Writing Prompt] The Order escapes Plumeria, only to meet Triandra.

Nightmares Are Memories When You Live For 1000 Years

\--------

“ _ Something’s changed,” _ M!Byleth warned. Byleth stumbled slightly as the words left the original’s mouth, the world slowly falling apart around him and the Order out of sight. 

_ Something has changed indeed _ , Byleth noted, trying his best to not deadpan. Free from the questionable influence of Starloon --  _ Oi! --  _ Byleth knew that the words from M!Byleth’s mouth were meant to protect and alert instead of snark about the obvious.

Unhooking the (still dull) Sword Of The Creator, Byleth took stock of the crumbling world around him. Bits and pieces of the bizarre flora dusted away, revealing hedge sculptures and sprawling lawns. The dirt path below turned into a well-maintained cobblestone path, although the remnants of signs of wear suggested that the road was still well used. 

Slowly, the world outside Byleth’s immediate surroundings began rebuilding itself. More opulent houses of artisan marble began constructing themselves; some pieces floated from the void below while others fizzled into existence. Lamp posts began to line the cobblestone path --  _ street, now that I see the size of it -- _ casting a muted glow in the dim atmosphere.

Byleth squinted as bright light spilled into the scene. He brought his hand up to his eyes. Looking up, he saw subtle details begin to fill in, such as clouds lazily floating by. His eyes drew downward

More importantly, the newly spawned sun revealed Garrag Mach Monastery, broken chunks slowly piecing themselves back together.

“ _So this must be the expensive district in the town at the base of Garrag Mach,_ ” M!Byleth noted. “ _I always wanted to visit this place…”_

_ Shall we take a look? _

Turns out, there wasn’t much to look at. The solo plus head ghost wandered along the street, passing manors of varying styles. Some held crests or emblems on the gates. The gardens, while less expansive than the ones in a lord’s territory, were still bigger than the houses of many of the middle class. Byleth was able to confirm the emptiness both visually and physically; all the houses were devoid of people, allowing Byleth to take a leisurely stroll through hedges shaped in increasingly pompous styles.

As leisurely as one can get when stuck in some unknown realm, at least.

_ “Is this the Dokkalfar’s plan? Trap the Order in a replica of their own worlds while the nightmare spreads?”  _ M!Byleth wondered.

Byleth gingerly put a hand into a fountain. Deeming it safe enough, he reached to splash water on his face. His own reflection stared back with a head of dark green hair; a look he had not worn since his academy days. 

M!Byleth grimaced.  _ “Sothis thinks it is a divide and conquer tactic. The dokkalfar might be picking the Order off one by one. Be on your guard. Kiran can’t summon us back to life yet.” _

_ Probably shouldn’t have chanced the water, then.  _

Byleth opened one of the doors to a manor. Taking a seat on one of the many silk couches, Byleth stared outward towards Garrag Mach. “Shouldn’t be long now,” Byleth muttered. The spire was almost done constructing itself, which should signal the end of the monastery’s reconstruction.

_ 3, 2, 1… _

The last chunk, a large stained glass window, fell into place. The Garrag Mach bells tolled.

_ Happy new year,  _ Byleth thought without enthusiasm.

He moved to get up before his stomach lurched into his throat. His feet, before planted solidly on the ground, felt nothing beneath them. 

_ “Ambush!”  _ M!Byleth’s Sothis cried.  _ “I knew I was right!” _

Byleth swung his Sword of the Creator high, wrapping around a chandelier that was quickly pulled down with Byleth, the rest of the ceiling following. Byleth let out a sharp cough, his torso buzzing in pain as he hit the ground floor.

_ “Luckily it wasn’t-” _

_ “Remember.” _

Byleth heard the unknown voice --  _ female? --  _ clearly even through the cacophony of splintering wood and shattering marble. He rolled sharply to the left, narrowly avoiding a very heavy looking statue and earning himself a splintering headache.

His vision swam as he struggled to get to his feet, the floor beneath him seemingly swaying like a ship at sea.  _ If this is a concussion... _

_ “You’ll still fight. You’ll still win,”  _ M!Byleth encouraged.  _ “Steady now.” _

_ “See what you suppressed to the deepest pits of your mind.” _

Byleth swung his sword in the direction of the voice. Briefly, the sword relic glowed, carving a blazing arc through the debris and revealing the world outside. 

The city was in flames. The street, formally eerily quiet without life, was filled with pained cries from soldiers and civilians. Corpses littered the avenue, some with clean sword wounds through their chest, others half-burned and half mauled by sources Byleth would rather not find. 

_ “But you know. This is your nightmare. This was your creation.” _

_ “Creation?”  _ M!Byleth mindlessly asked.

_ My future,  _ Byleth confirmed.  _ One of my failed runs, mostly locked behind the vaults of Time Pulse. _

Byleth ran forward, the Enlightened One’s robes flowing behind him instead of his mercenary outfit. He sidestepped an incoming sword swing, burying his sword deep in the attacker’s chest. 

_ An imperial soldier,  _ Byleth noted.

“You woke too late,” the voice said. Byleth swung again, the blade tearing through a hedge fence. “Woke up after your Princess stormed Garrag Mach and took back the monastery from your students.” 

A dokkalfar sat on a pile of rubble, impassively watching the scene unfold. “The one time you did not wake in time for the Millennium Festival.”

Byleth tightened the grip on his sword. He still remembered where he found each corpse; he pointedly did not let his eyes wander lest he found the one that died here.

Triandra turned to face Byleth, face devoid of a smile.

“The one time all of your students died.”


	8. [Weekly Writing Prompt] Triandra's long nightmare comes to an end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfonse has some troubling information to process in the wake of Triandra's death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP my weekly schedule, I'll get back on it eventually.

_ “Breath in, breath out, breath in, good- ah!”  _

The mental image of Sothis perked up, her eyes widening slightly. She nudged Byleth slightly.  _ “Lighten up child. You have a visitor.” _

_ Breath out. _

Byleth’s eyes refocused on the campfire, pupils shrinking in reaction to the light. Golden boots stepped into his peripheral vision.

“Byleth,” Alflonse acknowledged.

“Alfonse,” Byleth nodded back. Through many lifetimes and trips to Askr, he has learned that the Order’s nobles prefer the lack of titles. “What can I do for you today?”

Alfonse sat down on the log across from Byleth, sword clinking against his armor as he straightened his tunic. “Just making my rounds,” Alflonse chuckled slightly. “No need to be so stiff.”

“Apologies. You just caught me off guard.” Byleth poked the campfire, small embers floating up in response. “I’m glad that you are more comfortable with us heroes now.”

“I have always trusted the Order’s heroes in battle,” Alfonse said.

“Not in battle,” Byleth clarified. “I just found it odd of you to interact with a hero longer than exchanging pleasantries.”

_ “Are all Byleths this tactless?”  _ Sothis questioned. 

M!Byleth made a noncommittal grunt.

Alfonse’s smile fell. “Yes,” he said, furrowing his brow. “I can see how that would surprise you, given your length of leave.” 

“Well, I am glad. Your change was not inherently obvious in the other Byleth’s memories, after all.”

He brought his hand to his chin. “Yes, well. I have made great progress in a small amount of time it seems.”In a quiet voice seemingly meant only to himself, he continued, “But what could prompt such a change? Perhaps I am just falsifying clues, but if who I am...”

M!Byleth narrowed his eyes.  _ “Who I am?” _

Alfonse leaned forward towards the campfire, covering his mouth with his hands. “And why… I come to him…”

Alfonse continued to mumble to himself, lost in his thoughts. “It seems Kiran rubbed off on you in more ways than one,” Byleth said offhandedly. 

Alfonse snapped up as if poked with a red hot rod. He shook his head. “The fatigue of this constant chase must be getting to me.” Alfonse stood up, bowing towards Byleth. “I believe I will retire for the night. Sleep well.”

“Good night.”

_ “Such a sudden change,”  _ M!Byleth said.  _ “It seems the loss of our summoner has had more of an impact than we have initially perceived.” _

__ Byleth turned towards the direction that Alfonse walked in. The horn failing, Alfonse’s attitude change, and Kiran’s disappearance: Byleth began to piece together what Alfonse may be thinking.


	9. [Weekly Writing Prompt] The Order is visited by the Mysterious Ghost of Winter's Cheer

“Bleargh!”

“Gah!”

Alfonse flew across the room and tumbled painfully into the wall opposite of Kiran.

Kiran, who was standing with Breidablik outstretched and its barrel smoking.

“Alfonse!” Kiran shouted in alarm. They holstered their relic before rushing over, quickly looping an arm around Alfonse’s waist. Alfonse got up with a pained grunt. One of Kiran’s eyes flickered shut in a wince. “Sorry! I, uh, never thought I would have been on the receiving end of a sneaky surprise.”

“And yet you are the only one who turns around and blasts the visitor in the face,” Alfonse groaned. He waved off Kiran’s concerned look. “What are you doing up and about at this hour?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Kiran admitted. “Something bothers me about our three-night sleep, but I can’t quite figure out what. What are you doing out so late? I’d imagine tackling insomniac is your idea of fun. 

Alfonse shook his head. “I am here because there have been reports of a ghost roaming these halls. Commander Anna thinks that the ghost will scare away visitors during the winter festival, so here I am.”

“Vistors?”

“Another get rich quick scheme of her’s, I am afraid.” 

“Joy,” Kiran said dryly. “Is this ghost the same ghost that’s been leaving presents in the hero’s rooms?”

“And the guests,” Alfonse confirmed. “The guards have been sent running far too many times over panic about the small boxes.”

“I have a strong suspicion on who it is already,” Kiran sighed. “No need for alarm. Just a hero trying to be nice, I am sure. Leave it to me. I’ll see that the guests are not disturbed any longer.”

\----------------

“I don’t understand,” Thrasir said. “Is this not what people enjoy?”

“Supposedly,” Lif inhaled. His eyes reopened, focusing on the summoner. “But I forgot how jittery people could be by the smallest unknown.”

“Still,” Kiran cooed. “It was really sweet of you two to do this.”

Lif huffed and turned away. “If you have nothing else to say, go chat up another hero.”

Thrasir turned towards her Askrian counterpart. “Lif? Are you blu- okay, okay.” She held up her hands in surrender as Lif turned his steely gaze onto Thrasir.

“You’re almost as bad as Felix,” Kiran said. They stopped for a moment at the doorway, before adding one last comment.

“Tsundere.”

\-----------

_ Summoning Mercedes was a mistake, _ Kiran thought gingerly. Fjorm’s lecturing didn’t need another person added on.


End file.
